Seeing Part of the Real You
by serenitymeimei
Summary: Cameron finds out what it’s like when House needs someone to lean on. House/Cameron.


Title: Seeing Part of the Real You 

Rating: M

Pairing: House/Cameron

Spoilers: Through "Merry Little Christmas".

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, not mine.

Summary: Cameron finds out what it's like when House needs someone to lean on.

A/N: This fic is for lj-user "dragynflyqueen" , in return for making the most fabulous Inside icons, ever! It's not very Holiday-ish, like you wanted, but it's set on Christmas Eve so I hope that's alright. Enjoy, sweetie!

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Cameron woke slowly, not quite willing to clear the pleasant haze that clouded her mind. The cool sheets against her bare skin felt oddly soft as she stretched her limbs languidly and rolled to her side. Snuggling deeper into the pillow under her cheek, she inhaled the musky male scent that lingered there, a more than welcome reminder that for the first time in more than a year, she wasn't in her own bed.

Her eyes reluctantly slid open just enough to glance at the clock sitting on a nightstand nearby, it's numbers glowing bright red in the darkness, before quickly slipping them shut again.

It was only a few minutes past midnight.

She smirked slightly as she rolled back over, her muscles protesting deliciously with the movement, and watched as the person in bed next to her slept.

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Just a few short hours ago she'd been at home alone, reading one of her favorite books while listening to holiday music on the radio, when House had called her.

He was ready to take Tritter's deal.

She'd been relieved, elated even, at the news.

She remembers pulling up to his apartment twenty minutes later, wincing in sympathy as she'd seen him clutching his thigh trying to massage away his problems as he waited for her out on the sidewalk.

He'd looked so horrible; the pain crushing him into only a small portion of the man he used to be.

It had taken her three red lights before she finally worked up the courage to turn and take a good look at him. His eyes were still puffy and bloodshot, both hands shook every time he moved, his brow knitted in pain with every bump they'd gone over, and for once in his life he hadn't snarked or made fun of her, hell even talked to her since he'd gotten into the car.

House had admitted defeat.

There was no denying it.

Tritter's precinct had been completely abandoned, with the exception of one, when they'd driven up. And, even though she had parked as close as she could, having to watch him stumble and limp his way through the parking lot toward the main entrance, without getting out to help him, was one of the hardest things she's ever had to do.

She'd cried as she waited for him.

Hot trails of tears had dampened her cheeks, and she prayed that she'd never have to see him hurt like that again.

The drive back to his place had been quiet, almost too quiet. And, when she'd waited for him to slip out of the car, returning to his solitude, he'd turned to her with his eyes misty and scared, and she'd shut off the ignition and followed him inside without a word.

It hadn't been awkward, like so many of the other times she'd been there, but it hadn't exactly been comfortable either.

He'd immediately flopped down onto his couch and pointed to the bottle of scotch that sat on top of his piano. She silently filled two glasses halfway, and sat next to him as she let the burn of his liquor trail down her throat.

House had started to fidget after a few minutes, itching to put his hand on his thigh, when he finally spoke.

"Tritter pulled the deal."

Startled at the sudden omission, she'd turned to him, her mouth agape. "He- what?"

The rest of House's drink had been downed and then slammed onto the table in front of them, groaning as he finally gave into temptation and rubbed the crevice of missing muscle in his leg.

"I stole a 'script from one of Wilson's dead patients," he paused, almost looking as if he was about to regret what came next. "and got caught."

She'd taken a minute or so to let what he'd done, just how far down his addiction had dragged him, sink in. Eventually, after setting her glass down next to his, she'd taken a deep breath and laid her hand comfortingly on his arm, his ministrations stilling for only a moment.

"So what happens next?"

"Trial… Probably prison." House grunted then, his neck had tensed and sweat shown on his forehead, his face screwing up as another sharp pain shot through his leg.

"God," he gasped, trying to lighten the moment with sarcasm. "I can't wait until Cuddy let's me have vicodin again."

She had felt so helpless then.

A sneaking suspicion still lingered in her mind; what if she hadn't been there? She can almost guarantee that he would have tried cutting, or something even worse, to relieve his pain again.

But, he had already shown her that evening, even if he didn't want to admit it, that he trusted her just by letting her see him like this; finally letting her in. And, before she could decided otherwise, she'd gone for broke, and slid her palm slowly down his arm until it covered and gripped the fist that clutched so desperately to his thigh.

A growl had escaped his lips, before he turned, daring her to continue with those piercing blue eyes of his.

"House," she'd pleaded quietly.

A small tear had trickled from the corner of his eye, his protests falling on deaf ears as she gently pried his fingers from around his leg.

"Cameron, stop-"

"Shut up, House."

She'd felt him shiver as the warmth of her palm pressed softly into his thigh, and when he hadn't protested any further, to gain better leverage, she'd gotten up and sat on the coffee table in front of him, never letting her touch leave his cloth covered leg, before starting to slowly probe the area.

For the rest of her life, she would never forget the first time she felt his scar. It was long, jagged, and deep. Three things that she would have never wished on any patient of her own, let alone House.

As her mind had wandered, her fingers moving in rhythmic swipes, they'd sat there in relative silence, an occasional grunt or hiss of pain echoing off of his walls while her fingers had worked their magic.

It seemed to have been working.

The moment he'd relaxed, finally realizing that she wasn't going to hurt him, she'd smirked and caught his gaze. A chuckle had bubbled from her throat when he'd grown uncomfortable after only a few seconds and had looked away from her, gesturing for her to go back to work on his inner thigh.

She'd shaken her head in mild amusement and tried desperately to forget that her torch for him was still held high, no matter how desperately she tried to douse the flames. One thing that she was thankful for however, was that she'd managed to ignore it- that is until House had mumbled something and shifted in his seat trying to give her more space, and she'd felt something hard and warm against her fingers.

She froze.

He was aroused.

She remembers blushing furiously as he had let out a painful sounding moan, one that she suspected until then, only Stacey and his weekly hookers had heard. But, to her surprise, when she daringly decided to slide her hand forward the smallest bit and came into contact with his crotch again, his head had tipped toward the ceiling, mouth slightly parted in appreciation.

She'd grown bolder then, almost transfixed as her fingers danced slowly across his erection. The thought had crossed her mind that she was probably taking advantage of him, but just as it did, his hand caught her wrist.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" House had said, staring at her with his last shreds of restraint.

She smiled sadly. "It's just a distraction, right?"

He'd seemed a little perturbed by her answer, a reflection of guilt shimmering over his features, before he nodded and brought her hand to fully cup him.

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Cameron scooted closer to House as he continued to sleep, pulling the blankets at the end of the bed up and over them to offset the chill. She snuggled tentatively into his side, and was pleased when his arm wrapped around her of its own violation and pulled her closer.

The gentle rumble of snoring filled the room, but all she could think about was the fact that in his slumber, the pain seemed to have disappeared.

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She'd almost felt relieved as they'd stumbled toward his bedroom a few minutes later, realizing that the couch wasn't exactly the best place for a de-toxing cripple to engage in 'extracurricular activities'.

He'd landed on his bed with an oomph, grimacing when it jostled his leg. She hadn't let him worry about it for very long though. Her hands had come to rest on his shoulders, as he reached out, sliding his palms over the low-rider jeans he'd always been so fond of, and gripped her hips, pulling her forward.

Cameron's fingers entwined themselves into his soft hair, hesitating momentarily as their eyes locked, before bringing her mouth to his.

They both inhaled sharply at the contact, and a shot of desire had pooled between her legs as their lips slowly moved against one another, rapidly becoming a blur of their tongues and teeth as well.

He had known all the right places to touch her as their clothes slowly began falling to the floor. A caress on her collarbone, a kiss to the underside of her breast, or the ticklish spot just below her hip.

In turn, she had done the same by running her hands along his flanks after slipping his shirt off of his shoulders, or as she explored his torso, passing fingertips over his nipples before raking them through the hair on his chest.

Both of them had taken in as much as they could, neither willing to admit that they that what they were feeling, if they would let it, could last so much longer than a one night stand.

It wasn't long before she'd been able to resist pushing him into the middle of the bed and carefully remove his ever tightening pants, eagerly eyeing his cock as it sprang free and sat heavily against his stomach.

She thinks she remembers hearing him whimper as she stood up on the cold hardwood floor and shimmied out of her panties before crawling back toward him, but she wouldn't have been surprised in the least if the noise had come from her.

Her nails had trailed mischievously up his good leg, her palm coming to rest on his quivering stomach. Much to her surprise, before she'd gotten the chance to fully appreciate his body he'd pulled her roughly down to him, kissing her without abandon. She'd barely had enough time to avoid landing on his leg, but by some miracle she'd been lucky enough to slip her thighs around his waist without causing much damage; a groan of pain turned into lust as his breath puffed hotly against her mouth.

The press of his chest against hers was enchanting. The course hairs that covered it caused a delightful friction against her nipples as she began slowly grinding her pelvis against his.

He'd broken their sloppy kiss and moaned, his hands pulling her hips harder against him. She could feel the tip of his penis trapped between their stomachs, and she had been tempted to make a smartass comment about how she finally had him right where she wanted him, but decided against it when he lifted her up and slid her onto him.

She had gasped, actually more like groaned his name as he slipped all the way inside her. Her muscles had fluttered around him, making him sigh blissfully as she began slowly raising and lowering her hips.

The feeling was more intoxicating than she'd thought it would be.

He'd tried to change positions several times, and she'd found it empowering when she'd been forced to pin his arms above his head, reminding him between nips and kisses that he'd hurt himself more if he didn't let her do all the work.

Eventually though, he'd coaxed her into releasing him and his hand had snuck between their bodies, letting his thumb circle her clit teasingly as her pace quickened.

Her orgasm had come unexpectedly. One minute she'd been focused on him, making sure to squeeze her muscles at the right moments and to not accidentally hit his leg, and the next she knew she was flying over the proverbial edge, her scream muffled as he kissed her.

The only thing she'd been sure of, was that somewhere in her bliss he had followed her, grunting and rocking up into her as she'd felt his hot semen surge inside her.

Their hearts had slowed and their breathing had almost returned to normal as they'd kissed and caressed one another, feeling disappointed when he'd reluctantly slipped out of her, moaning at the loss of contact…

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It was nearly two in the morning when she woke up the next time.

The clock's reflection shone clearly in his bedroom window, and even though he still held her close, she was starting to wonder if it would be smart of her to sneak out of bed and head home.

Cameron frowned. She didn't want to leave.

But, the question was, did he want her to stay?

House had begun stirring underneath her, and she froze. His hand brushed through her hair, sweeping aside her bangs before kissing her forehead and snuggling deeper into the blankets.

He sighed happily, either ignoring or not noticing the throb of pain that she'd expected him to have when waking up.

"Can we do that _every_ time my leg hurts?"

Her eyes widened slightly as she looked up and saw the cheeky grin on his face.

"I don't know, House." She said, seriously, finally relaxing into his embrace. "If we did that every time your leg hurt, we'd be having sex all the time."

A chuckled grumbled through his chest, and she could practically feel him grinning against the top of her head. "Do you have plans through New Year's?"

The sound of her laughter filled the room as she swatted him on the chest, before being pulled into a kiss.

"I think I could find time to fit you in."

End


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